Complications: A Surgeon's Notes on the Life of Piper Chapman
by spiffy the scribbler
Summary: [AU] A wise-ass doctor and a hotshot drug dealer sound like trouble in any language - and when it's Dr. Piper Chapman and Alex Vause, it's hard to say whether trouble is an entirely bad thing.
1. We're Not Irish

**_Hey guys, I'm back with another one! The idea for this came after watching Taylor Schilling in the short-lived 'Mercy' series, so if you've seen it and notice some parallels or familiar stuff, that would be why. I've had ideas for a lot of AU stories for other fandoms but this is the first I've really worked on and actually written, so if I veer from what you pictured for any character, I suppose I've taken creative liberty. There's a lot of things I've tried to kept true to OITNB, a lot of things I've been inspired by in Mercy, and a lot of things I've deliberately made different, so all I ask is that you keep an open mind and try not to yell too loudly at me for making a mess OTL_**

* * *

'Piper, I don't like this.' Polly Harper squeezed between two men, muttering her apologies as she followed her best friend through Brodie's Scottish Pub's Thursday night crowd. It wasn't packed, exactly, but there were way too many people per square yard as far as Polly was concerned. She liked her space, at least in public, and especially in questionable Scottish bars that she'd never heard of. 'I don't like this. At all.'

Piper Chapman's grin came with a snort. 'Oh, come on Pol, pull the stick out of your ass a few inches.' Resisting the urge to roll her eyes as Polly's fingers tightened like a cuff on her arm — clearly scared she'd get lost like a child in a mall — Piper led her towards the bar, finding a pair of vacant stools near where one of the bartenders stood. She waved at him. 'Hey Pete. One Sam Adams and a Blackfriar,' she said, laughing at Polly's hesitation as she wiggled in her seat.

'What the hell, Pipes,' Polly whined, eyeing the bar counter suspiciously before leaning her elbows on it. 'I haven't seen you in ages because you're always working at the hospital, and when I finally do, you take me to your after-work Paddy McGuire's.'

'Oh. Oh, don't say that, Pol, they're likely to stone you in a pit if you mix them up with the Irish guys,' Piper told her very seriously, grinning at the bartender who set two chilled bottles on the bar for them. 'I, however, will excuse you just this once, because I can appreciate a good drink after a nine hour shift.' Since moving out from her parents', Piper had indulged her taste for just about everything her mother would have frowned upon, including pale ale, lagers, and microbrews. She was nearing the end of her second year of residency at Hudson-Vaucluse Adventist and, only the next block over, Brodie's Scottish Pub — or Brodie's, for the familiar — was the unofficial haunt of the majority of the hospital's medical staff. Piper had never considered herself a pub kind of girl, but Brodie's was the kind of place Polly and her high school friends had never favoured. There was nothing wrong with a good cocktail, but slick and snotty had never been Piper's style, and every second bar from Broadway to the Village seemed to specialise in it. Granted, Polly was her best friend in the history of anything, ever, so Piper humoured her, tolerating the primp and the pretence that came with the obnoxious waiters and the bizarre drinks.

Polly had no such reservations. 'I don't know why you like this place so much,' Polly said, taking a resigned swig of her Samuel Adams. She smacked her lips, then made a face. 'I have no problems with beer, Pipes, but I'd pictured something else when you said you were free to hang out. Cosmos on Fifth, maybe?'

Piper choked on her drink, covering her mouth to hide the dribble of ale that sprayed out in her laughter. 'It's a _pub_, Pol. They've got vodka if you feel like getting hammered quicker, though.'

'Everyone thinks it's all about the Irish when it comes to the pubs,' the bartender interrupted loudly above the suddenly-cranked up music, winking at Polly, who looked at him as though he advanced with an axe. 'The Scottish have got them tooth and nail, I'll tell you now, lady.'

'But-... But you have an English accent,' Polly pointed out.

'Dad's Scottish,' the bartender replied, 'but my mum's a Pom. Grew up in England.'

'Polly,' Piper said, a sly smile pulling her lips upward, 'this is Pete. Pete, this is my best friend, Polly.'

'You definitely don't work at Hudson,' Pete said with a chuckle, pouring a bourbon and Coke.

Polly flicked her hair over her shoulder, drinking her beer. 'Can you tell?'

'Pete's the bar manager. He knows everyone from the hospital,' Piper explained as she turned, leaning her elbows on the bar and drinking from her bottle of Blackfriar. She nudged Polly, lowering her voice as she leaned over towards Polly's ear. 'And he's single.'

Polly smacked her best friend's arm. 'Don't even go there.'

Piper rolled her eyes then, shaking her head before lifting her bottle to Pete in goodbye as she pulled Polly along to a freed-up booth by the wall. 'Don't rule him out just yet,' she said, sliding into the booth as Polly sat opposite. 'All the nurses _love_ him, and he's totally funny.'

'And totally incapable of maintaining a clean shaven face.'

Groaning, Piper waved over a passing waiter, shaking her bottle slightly to call for another. She turned back to Polly, pointing the open end at her accusingly. 'You just don't like the fact that he works as a bartender.' Polly wasn't a snob, not compared to the people they'd grown up with and the people in their family social circles, but she was a realist in the sense that she knew that love and/or amazing sex did not pay the bills.

'Well, yeah, that's part of it!' Polly agreed, to Piper's obvious chagrin. 'I don't want to date someone who can't make rent, can't take me out to dinner, and thinks I need to put out because I ordered dessert. I don't even believe in marriage, and I like working to support myself and all, but if I wanted to date somebody or God forbid, hitch myself to them forever, I at least want the option of doing the stay-at-home thing!'

'And what, turn into our moms and make wheat-free snacks with the nanny while our husbands bang their sexcretaries?'

Polly gasped loud enough to alert the next table over. 'That is a horrible life I wish on nobody, and you know it!'

Piper shrugged lazily, leaning forward on the table and downing the rest of her beer, examining her nails. 'I'm just saying.'

Med school hadn't always been the plan, or even her idea, but the further along she went, the more Piper realised that it would do her more good than she imagined. Her father was a surgeon, and she'd never possessed the ambition to go beyond a liberal arts degree at a small, but prestigious college in New England somewhere, until she realised that she thrived off the excelling, the drive and the aspiration. She'd never been lousy in class, and straight A's were never too much trouble, but as she grew older, the freedom and benefit of the doubt her parents had granted her began to subside.

It began in the middle of junior high, with an offhand comment from her mother about her future. One comment had turned into more comments, and comments had turned into expectations, and expectations had turned into a life that everyone but Piper had planned. Perfect Piper, good in school, lots of extra-curriculars, likely to get into a good college, get a good husband and have a good life.

Piper didn't want _good_. She wanted her _own_ life, where she lived on her own terms. She wanted to be able to choose.

Her father had always suggested medicine to her younger brother Cal, who, having dropped out of Brown, spent most of his days smoking weed and running around staging protests with some Greenpeace warrior named Neri, and was more likely to end up being _admitted _to hospital than working in one. The idea had planted itself in Piper's brain, however, and she'd never looked back. Doing medicine meant that she could keep her parents happy — Daddy's princess was now forever the favourite child for following in his footsteps, and her mother gushed about how _smart_ and _striving_ her only daughter was, albeit accompanied by the constant mention that she needed to find a potential husband sometime — and eventually support herself for the kind of life she wanted.

She wasn't entirely sure about the kind of life she wanted, but Piper sure as hell didn't want the one that had originally been mapped out for her. Becoming a doctor killed a few birds with one stone, and it was always a bonus that not only was she good at it, but she _enjoyed_ it. Residency was never going to be easy, but there was something so unmistakeably satisfying about crash-landing in her bed after enduring monstrous shifts, often filled with more sad stories than happy ones, working harder than she'd ever worked at a desk in school. Piper was doing something, something that seemed to matter, more so than she could have ever hoped for as a trophy-slash-housewife for one of the Fortune 500.

It wasn't as if she didn't like nice things, or didn't want the perks of having money to burn. Piper just wanted to do things on her own terms, and she'd relished the freedom like a zealot once she'd moved out for college.

'Do you know any hot doctors?' Polly asked, tapping her fingernails on the dark wooden table. 'Because you can absolutely hook me up with those.' She looked over at the bar, her nose scrunching. 'Instead of... _Pete_.'

Piper blew a raspberry. 'Pete is sweet, funny, and mildly attractive. The nurses think he's sexy with the accent and all, so I guess it depends who you ask. You could do a lot worse.'

'Yeah, but I could do a lot _better_.'

'You, Polly Harper, are a stuck-up bitch.'

'You, Piper Chapman, are a dyke with no real life outside your hospital... And _this_ place.'

'Hey now,' Piper defended, 'I like boys too.'

'I stand corrected,' Polly said. 'You, Piper Chapman, are an equal-opportunity lover with no real life outside your hospital and this sad excuse for a bar.'

'This place is the _best_.' The waiter returned with a new bottle, and Piper took it gladly. 'I can have a drink and play pool without some jackass advertising executive making passes at me with his shitty power tie.'

'Eight years of med school has changed you,' Polly said sombrely. 'For the better, I admit, but come on, the only clothes you wear are jeans and leather jackets. And hooray for you, choosing between wife-beaters and button-downs. I mean, I don't think I've seen you in a dress since Cal's high school graduation. And you're the only person with a vagina that I know that actually likes playing pool. What kind of debutante _are_ you?' She tilted her head, sipping from her bottle. 'It's good you still wear make-up. And I guess the wifebeaters kind of flatter your chest.'

'What's wrong with my chest?!' Piper exclaimed.

'Oh, you mean besides what's barely there?'

Piper put her hands over her chest defensively, her lips drawn in an O as her brows drew together.

'...Well, they aren't big, but they're pretty, I guess.' Polly burst out laughing, finishing her beer. 'Okay, can I please have something that has hard liquor? I'm gonna need it if you want me to hang out in this place.' She looked to the bar for a waiter, then automatically ducked. 'Oh my God!' Polly hid her face behind one hand, as though it would make her invisible.

Piper only lifted her eyebrows. 'What?'

'Your stupid bartender is looking this way!'

That made Piper sit up. 'Really? Pete?' She craned her neck, only to be yanked down to the tabletop by her shirt front. 'Oof!'

'Don't look!'

'Why?' Piper whined. 'Give Pete the Cute Bartender a shot. Excuse the pun. He'll probably buy _you_ a shot.'

'Pete the Cute Bartender is a _bartender_. What kind of career choice is that?'

'Have you ever considered the fact that you could get free drinks if you dated him?'

'I'm not sleeping with a guy to get wasted for free!'

'Well, I guess that makes one of us.'

* * *

She had enjoyed the beer. A couple of drinks after a long shift were always welcome, particularly with friends. The shots that Polly had demanded they do afterwards, on the other hand, were most definitely a mistake. A throbbing, nauseous mistake.

Piper wanted to roll on her back, but was aware that any sudden movements would probably cause the room to spin. All she'd asked for was to catch up with her best friend, and all she'd gotten were lectures on how she needed to get out more and a hangover. Even in high school, Piper had shown a strange affinity for tequila — something Polly took advantage of. Often.

Way, way too often.

She cursed her airy, well-lit room; the big windows lining the far wall in her bedroom been one of the reasons Piper chose to travel across the length of Manhattan every day rather than live nearer to the hospital. It was a two-bed, two-bath exposed-brick apartment on 7th Street in the East Village, a present for both graduation and for her acceptance at Columbia from her parents — one of the few luxuries her parents afforded that Piper was openly grateful for. Hardwood floors, decked out kitchen, and more space than Piper knew what to do with on her own. No cramped dorms, no questionable roommates, and all the freedom she wanted. All the windows of the apartment faced east, taking all the morning sun and none of the afternoon heat.

Today, however, Piper felt that the sun had no business being so happy and shiny and... _Bright_. Her shift at work was in the afternoon, so assuming she hadn't slept past twelve, Piper had plenty of time to piece her seemingly-fragmented skull together with aspirin and brood over a bowl of cereal before she headed to the hospital. At least her shift was short, and at the end of it, she was probably going straight to a barstool at Brodie's again anyway, preferably with people who would order her a burger instead of a line of tequila shots.

She blearily glanced at the clock — 10:42am — as her hand groped over the bedside table for her phone, but Piper found a sticky note on the screen.

_Left early for work, bought a donut for your fat ass to soak up all the tequila. Call you later! — Pol xx_

The donut was a golden, still-warm monstrosity, covered in cinnamon sugar, in a brown paper bag next to a pack of Advil Polly had apparently left out as well. A sober Piper would've been pretty damn sure that the donut was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen — but this was hungover Piper, and so she tucked it back into the paper bag to save it for later in the day when she didn't want to hurl at the thought of swallowing anything but water or painkillers.

Brushing her teeth and hauling herself into the shower, Piper was happy to let the hot water scald her skin, soaking under the spray far longer than necessary. Showers and baths were happy places, where all could be washed away with warmth and delicately scented soap, better than any hospital antibacterial and more satisfying than losing herself in bottle of vodka. Or a bottle of anything, really.

She scrubbed, slowly because her body couldn't go any faster even if she wanted to, rinsing and lathering, repeating a ritual that a million times before had calmed, soothed and cleansed when nothing else had. Some people slept, or wolfed down on a greasy breakfast to cure their hangovers. Piper Chapman bathed. It wasn't a cure-all, but God, Piper knew it should have been.

There was some kind of therapy in it, in letting clean water wash over her — occasionally with someone else — that Piper had never found anywhere else.

* * *

'Back again, P?' Pete grinned from behind the bar, smartly sending a waiter with a large glass of iced water in Piper's direction as she plopped into a booth. 'This is a record, even for you.'

'Just feed me, Pete,' Piper groaned, slumping face-down over the table, arms outstretched as her aviators clattered against the wood from her face. 'Just fucking feed me, for the love of God.' She'd devoured the donut on the way, far sooner than she'd planned.

And she was still hungry.

'Regular breakfast sandwich, coming right up.' Pete sent the order to the kitchen and looked around at the empty-ish pub; people came for lunch and breakfast, with more drinks orders coming in after twelve, but until the late afternoon suits and off-duty medical staff straggled in, Brodie's was a relatively calm place, good for quiet meetings or lazy lunches. Or hungover staff from the hospital who needed something to soak up the alcohol from the night before. Rounding the bar, Pete slid into the seat opposite Piper. 'Your friend Polly is nice.'

'Great casual segue, Pete,' Piper mumbled, lifting her head from the table and sitting upright. She rubbed her eyes, folding her sunglasses away; the sun was still being unnecessarily cruel outside, and now the dim lights in the pub seemed out to get her pupils as well. 'I'd give you her number, but she might, you know, smother me in my sleep.'

'Is she single?'

'Are you interested?'

'Are you bringing her down here again anytime soon?'

Piper barked out a laugh, then winced as her own eardrums shirked at the loud sound. 'Um, not unless the prize for your next trivia night is a pair of shoes.'

'Pretty sure I can arrange some Tevas as our grand prize.'

'Oh dear God.'

'How about some Ugg boots?'

'One regular breakfast sandwich, for our favourite pool player-slash-Hudson resident,' another waiter announced as he interrupted, sliding a plate in front of Piper with a wink.

'I only win when I am fairly inebriated,' Piper said, holding a finger up before looking down at the plate; fried eggs and crispy bacon with a slice of cheddar, in a toasty, golden roll. 'I'm pretty sure my arteries are clogging just looking at this thing. God bless it.'

'So it's a go on the Ugg boots, then?' Pete asked.

'...No. It's a no on the Ugg boots, Pete. A spectacularly _huge_ no.' Turning the plate round to find a good angle to start on, Piper hunched down, levelling with the sandwich. 'If I eat it from this side, the bacon might slide out.' She rotated the plate. 'If I start here, the runny eggs might ooze too much to the other side.'

'Are you specialising in breakfast or medicine, P?'

Piper didn't bat an eyelash, poking her sandwich with a fork. 'Go away. Whether my bacon falls out of my sandwich is a serious issue.'

'Are you still drunk?'

Piper did react then, reaching out to smack his arm before he stood from the booth, laughing. He spotted a new group of customers by the bar, making a bee-line for his regular spot behind it to avoid Piper's hand. 'What're you after?' he asked, hopping over the bar counter.

Piper, meanwhile, had returned her attention to the sandwich. Half of it was already gone by the time Pete had pulled out a bottle of Heineken and poured out a row white wine spritzers for the group that had walked in.

'Go easy, you little fatty,' Pete called affectionately from across the room, and Piper gave him the finger as she wiped her mouth, drinking her water in large gulps. She looked at her watch; she still had a little over an hour before her shift started.

'What?' one of the customers, the one who'd ordered the Heineken, asked.

'That little lady right there,' Pete told them, pointing to Piper who was pulling her leather jacket off and heading to the pool tables, 'just took down our giant breakfast sandwich in under five minutes.' It wasn't a new feat for Piper, but for someone her size, it certainly should have been.

Piper shook her head, chuckling as she polished her cue with chalk. 'Seven minutes,' she said, not bothering to look over her shoulder, bending over at the head of the pool table to see if she was centred for the break. 'It was seven minutes — '

'Anything under ten minutes deserves some kind of medal.'

The familiar sound of a beer bottle settling against the wood didn't make Piper look up, and neither did the tall figure that came to stand beside her, but the corner of her lips twitched up as she made practice strokes at the white ball. 'It's a bacon and egg sandwich, not a 10x10 from In-n-Out,' she said, another chuckle coming from her throat but not making it past her lips as she broke the pyramid at the other end of the table. Piper straightened, one hand around her cue, and turned to the stranger. It was a woman; dark hair — almost jet-black— tipped in blue framed a pale, attractive face, and the enviably faultless eyeliner and mascara made sure Piper couldn't quite see the colour of the eyes behind the black-rimmed glasses.

'And what does a East Coaster know about In-n-Out?' the stranger asked, her voice curiously husky and smooth all at once, a smirk curving her red lips with more teasing in her question than any polite conversation warranted. She leaned a hip on the edge of the pool table, her fingers wrapping around the green neck of her Heineken as she took a swill.

Piper tried not to stare, an eyebrow quirking up instead. 'Enough to know the East Coast is deprived of a beautiful, beautiful thing.' New York burgers had their charm — particularly if one knew where to go — but in terms of fast food chains, Piper was willing to admit the West Coast had a little one-up.

The stranger's smirk grew, and something not unpleasant seized in the pit of Piper's stomach. 'Not a totally stubborn New Yorker,' she said, grinning, 'I didn't see that coming.'

'Oh, I'm stubborn, but I'm from Connecticut,' Piper told her, realising that she probably should have moved around to make another shot on the table, but found she was perfectly happy to stay right where she was, where she was within inches of a flirty, attractive woman whose slender shoulders were exposed by her dress, and whose vocal cords seemed to be made of sex. 'You should see me at work.'

'The bartender says you're a doctor at Hudson.'

There was a gleam in the stranger's eyes that made Piper's face grow warm. 'Well, not yet. I'm a resident, actually.'

'You do realise that this is my roundabout way of asking for your name,' the stranger told her with an unashamed grin, laughing as her arms folded over her chest. The sound was comfortable and easy, as throaty and silken as her words, and did nothing to help the sparks that had flickered over Piper's spine. 'Doctor...?'

'Dr. Piper Chapman,' Piper said, only half-succeeding in pushing down the laugh that bubbled up in response. Why was she being so _giggly_? 'So, who are you? You're not a regular, and you're not from the hospital.' She leaned on her cue slightly, tilting her head with a small smile. 'I'd _definitely_ know you if you worked at the hospital.'

_Oh, yes she would._

'I bet.' The stranger's eyes narrowed, but not in an unfriendly way, because her mouth continued to smirk. 'My name is Alex.'

'And what do you do, _Alex_?' Piper bit the corner of her lip, smiling impishly. 'Besides make fun of strangers in bars.'

'I work for an international drug cartel.'

'...Oh, I see.' Piper snorted softly, moving round the table to make her next shot. 'And how's that going for ya?'

'Pretty swell, I'd say,' Alex replied.

Though Alex smiled, Piper faltered for just a second, having to glance back to assure herself that Alex was only joking.

Wasn't she?

'It's a hell of a pick-up line, though,' Piper said, lowering over the green baize of the table and taking aim, her cue resting on the guide she'd formed with her thumb and the knuckle of her index finger.

'Mm.' Alex followed her around the table, taking her beer and coming to stand behind Piper as she straightened. She leaned over Piper's shoulder, her lips right by her ear. 'But is it working?'

The tiniest shiver ran through her, but Alex withdrew as quickly as Piper turned around to face her. 'I don't know,' she managed to say, hopefully as confidently as she'd intended. 'If you were trying to pick me up, you probably would've bought me a drink by now.'

Piper's confidence backfired when Alex stepped forward again, backing her up against the pool table. 'So what'll you have?' she asked, the smile on her lips reaching her eyes, her words a sultry breath that Piper felt so much as heard.

Settling back, Piper pressed her lips together in a thin smile, her head cocking to the side. 'I can't, I have work in an hour.' Alex was warm and the room was cool and all she wanted to do was press closer — but Piper resisted.

'So I owe you a drink, is that what you're telling me?'

'I think it's safe to say that.'

'Good, so you'll have dinner with me later.'

'L-later?' Piper went stiff, blinking. Alex was forward, if the way that their hips kept brushing was any indication, but didn't people ask other people out for the next day, or the next Friday, or the next weekend? 'Like, _today_, later?'

One of Alex's perfectly shaped brows arched upward, but her lips curved in amusement. 'Yeah?'

'Oh.'

'Is that not a good time, or is that your way of telling me no?'

'Oh — no, I just — I mean — I'm working till late today, that's all.' Till 1am, to be exact.

'And?'

Piper's own brows lifted a little. 'Well, as long as you're fine with a... Really late dinner.'

Alex's chuckle seemed to slide straight through Piper's skin and into her bones. 'I can be _very_ flexible.'

Piper had a feeling that she didn't mean her schedule.

* * *

_The chapters for this fic are going to be long and substantial — or at least, that's the plan — so updates definitely won't come daily. I've planned this to be a long-running fic, longer than anything I've ever attempted, if not a pseudo-serial story altogether. I hope you guys enjoy this one, because I was way too excited for it! Thanks to endgirl for being my magical unicorn sounding board, and to everyone who read Soldier and decided to read this too._

_Since this fic is basically the baby giraffe still learning to walk of all the things I've written, I'd really love to hear what you guys think; constructive, critical, any feedback is a good thing. _

_Stay tuned!_

_spiffy_


	2. You Taylor Swift-Ass Motherfucker

'I get the kid in 17B.'

'What? Why do you get the sweet little girl and I get the motherfu- uh, grumpy old man?'

'Because I got Mr Healy _yesterday_,' Sophia Burset said, jabbing a finger on Taystee's arm. 'And if I have to hear one more comment about how_ tall_ I am and how _deep_ my voice is, there's gonna be trouble. Don't sweat it girl, he likes you.'

'Only 'cause I gave him free candy that one time,' grumbled Tasha Jefferson, otherwise known as Taystee, collecting the patient folders stacked on her desk. 'And now he always askin' if I got any and it's like, bitch I be feelin' sorry for your ass 'cause it's havin' problems, but I ain't a damn vending machine!'

'Language, Taystee,' Piper said, grinning and pulling her hair into a ponytail as she came by the nurses' station. The nurses at Hudson-Vaucluse were one of the reasons Piper considered herself lucky to be part of their residency program; she saw them, worked with them every day, and although it had been awkward at first — awkward enough for a short-lived nickname of Taylor Swift when they thought she couldn't hear — the nurses were counted among Piper's closest friends. 'Dr. Kind has supersonic hearing.'

'Honey, Dr. Kind is exactly what his name suggests,' Sophia said, pursing her lips at Piper. 'That man does not have a mean bone in his body.'

'Yeah, but he _did_ nearly write Taystee up for f-bombing when one of the new nurses splashed pee on her,' Piper replied. Taystee was a great nurse — she was sharp as they came, and her proactivity and intuition had saved lives and comforted grieving families in equal measure — but she'd gotten into trouble before for speaking her mind a little too blatantly.

Taystee glared.

'We're a _family_ hospital,' Piper went on, as though reading from a brochure and laughing as Sophia hid her own chuckles behind a clipboard. Dr. Maury Kind was Hudson-Vaucluse's Chief of Surgery and, like all young medical prodigies, he was a little left of centre. At thirty-three, he was the youngest Chief of Surgery in the country, but he'd yet to disappoint anyone. Skill had spoken for him when it counted, and Piper was thrilled to scrub in on his surgeries when she could. 'We're all under censorship here, Taystee.'

'Yo, Chapman!'

Piper looked over to see a thin, slightly short woman dancing down the corridor in her white coat. 'You're gonna bump into somebody, Poussey.'

'Not with my slick moves, I'm not!' Poussey grinned as she twirled on her heel and gave a playful punch to both Piper and Taystee's arms. 'You're with me for rounds today,' she told Piper. 'Pelage already took a bunch of interns this morning for her rounds, so we're just gonna double back for the patients that need it.'

There was a sigh of relief that Piper had inwardly been holding.

Dr. Poussey Washington, on the other hand, was a third year paediatric surgery resident, and had been the key reason why the nurses — particularly Taystee — had stopped calling Piper Taylor Swift. She was Piper's first friend at Hudson-Vaucluse, and for all her playfulness and easygoing demeanour, Poussey was one of the hospital's most talented residents, and Piper had seen firsthand the side of Poussey that had worked her way into a full-ride scholarship through Stanford's medical program, then to the top of the class for virtually her choice of residency. She'd been offered several residencies at different hospitals, but Poussey had chosen Hudson-Vaucluse.

'C'mon, Blondie, we got some kids to see,' Poussey said, pulling a pen from Taystee's desk — Taystee nearly threw a folder but was held back by Sophia — and steering Piper down the hallway. As they passed by the elevator, Poussey clicked the pen she'd taken from Taystee and tucked it into her coat pocket. 'So, what's with the stupid smile? You look like you got a little sugar this morning.'

'I was _hungover_ this morning.' Piper rubbed her temple at the thought of colossal headache she'd woken up with. She tried to frown. 'And I — I don't have a stupid smile on my face,' she added quickly as she and Poussey entered the room of a young boy who'd had his appendix removed.

'Hey, Todd, how you feelin'?' Poussey took the clipboard at the foot of the bed. 'This is my friend Dr. Chapman, she's just gonna check your stomach out, okay little man?'

'Okay.' Todd wiggled up in the bed, readily pulling his hospital gown up, revealing the thin scar and dotted bruising of where they'd operated.

Piper laughed, taking the gown from between his fingers. 'Easy, Todd, I'm just going to press around a little, so tell me if it hurts.' When he nodded, Piper gently applied pressure with her fingers, feeling for any swelling, but Todd didn't respond. 'Are your parents here?' She smiled at the boy as she tapped his abdomen. 'No fluid build-up, and no swelling,' she told Poussey, who scribbled something on the clipboard.

'Dad's at work, but mom went to the bathroom,' he said, yawning as Piper pulled his gown back down. 'I told her she could go home because Dr. Washington and the nurses always play with me, but she won't go.'

Poussey grinned, right as Todd's mother returned. 'We're just checking on the wound,' she told her. 'This is Dr. Chapman.' Motioning to Piper, Poussey patted Todd's head.

'Has he complained about any pain or discomfort?' Piper asked.

Todd's mother shook her head, smiling in relief. 'No, no he's been fine since he woke up from surgery. A little drowsy, though.'

'That'd be the anaesthetic, so don't worry about it,' Poussey said. 'The antibiotics for his appendicitis are probably wearing his energy levels down, too, so he'll probably knock out for a while later. If the area starts to feel a little tender and he needs something for the pain, just let the nurses know.'

Todd waved goodbye as Piper and Poussey headed for the door. 'Are you going to come back and play? My mom brought my Legos,' he said cheerfully.

'We'll drop in later, all right?' Poussey bounded back in and offered her fist to bump, and Todd lifted his hand without the drip.

'Is Dr. Chapman coming too?'

'Sure,' Piper said, laughing, 'I'll come visit with Dr. Washington a little later.'

When they left Todd and his mother, Poussey elbowed Piper in the ribs. 'So, back to that stupid grin you were wearing.'

'I wasn't grinning!'

'Chapman, you are the shittiest liar on this whole damn floor.' Poussey shook her head, her mouth set into a line. 'Something happened this morning, and I'm gonna get it outta you, or I'll tell Taystee to call you Taylor Swift for a month. And I'll steal your yogurt from the fridge.'

'You're gonna steal my yogurt anyway.'

'Hey, there ain't no time for me to go grocery shopping!' Poussey defended.

It was true, Piper knew, at least for the most part. Poussey's specialisation in paediatric surgery meant an even longer residency, and more work to gain the skills she needed. Technically, she was sharing an apartment a few blocks away from the hospital with Taystee, but she was practically living in the crash room, sleeping on the bunk beds and eating most of her meals from vending machines and the hospital cafeteria and cafe. Piper wasn't sure Poussey even went home most days.

'Doesn't Taystee buy groceries?' Piper asked.

'All she buys is damn hot sauce and King Cones!'

* * *

They visited a few other patients on the floor before they returned to the doctor's lounge, where they sat with files of patients, studying records and cases, sorting and taking notes. The lounge was home to a television, couches and armchairs, along with a fridge and kitchenette facilities. Poussey left to observe a few consults with one of the paediatricians downstairs, but when she returned, she had seemingly brought backup.

'Spit it out, Taylor Swift,' was the first thing out of Taystee's mouth before she reached for the remote and turned the TV on. 'Pussy says you won't talk about why you had that stupid-ass face on all day.'

'My _name_ is Pous_sey_, you dumb ass!'

Piper looked over her shoulder, where Sophia stood over her, and then at Poussey and Taystee at either side. '...This feels like an ambush.'

'That's what it is, baby,' Sophia said, smiling above her.

Her hands on her knees, awkwardly bouncing them as the three women stared at her, Piper shrugged. 'Nothing happened, okay? I just had a shitty morning turn into an okay morning.'

'And what made it turn into an okay morning?' Sophia asked; Taystee and Poussey looked less than impressed with Piper's answer.

'I had a breakfast sandwich at Brodie's?'

'Hey, those sandwiches are good, girl,' Taystee said, 'but they aren't _that_ good.'

Piper considered it for a moment. 'Well, I don't know... I mean they're _pretty_ good...'

'Cut the shit, P,' Poussey groaned finally. 'If you wanna keep whatever you got going on on the low, then that's fine, but don't look like a smiley motherfucker all the time.' Her eyes suddenly widened, and she glanced at the door - it was closed, and she relaxed again. 'Yeah, don't be all happy-lookin' like a dumbass, and then we don't have to ask questions about why you look like you lost your mind.'

'I didn't look like a smiley mother-... Um, fucker,' Piper insisted, standing from the couch. 'And you're all being ridiculous.'

Taystee flipped through the channels on the television. 'Mm-hmm.'

'You are!'

'Mm-hmm.' Taystee rolled her eyes. 'We'll figure it out, Blondie, sooner or later. You gonna spill all the details.'

'Yeah, well, there aren't any details to tell.' Details concerning the stranger at the bar were details that didn't need to be shared. It was almost a possessive feeling, to keep knowledge of anyone remotely sexy named Alex with dark hair and glasses to herself, like a secret she greedily hid away.

But she certainly hadn't been smiling about it, Piper was sure.

All three of them responded this time.

_'Mm-hmm.'_

Before Piper had a chance to consider a rejoinder, the pager in her coat went off — along with Taystee's and Sophia's —, vibrating and beeping. Fishing it out of her pocket, Piper grimaced, then left without another word, Taystee and Sophia close behind.

'It's the guy in 24C,' Piper said as they jogged down the corridor.

'Mr Healy?' Taystee blew out a breath. 'He's been complaining all day about his breathing, but there wasn't anything we could give him except an oxygen mask, and the man just kept takin' it off. I told him. I _told_ him it'd happen.'

Piper frowned, turning the corner. 'What? Why, what's he got?'

'Hantavirus,' Sophia answered as they nearly ran into Dr. Pelage at the door of 24C.

'Don't just stand there!' she growled, moving quickly into the room where Sam Healy was lying on the bed, desperately gasping for oxygen his airways refused to take as his monitors beeped frantically. His wife was beside herself, and Sophia moved to calm her as Dr. Pelage continued to bark out orders. 'Get me a ventilator!'

* * *

'His blood oxygen levels were low,' Piper explained slowly, though she suspected the person she was speaking to knew literally only a handful of English words. She went on anyway, despite Mrs Healy's mystified expression and vague nodding. 'Even with the oxygen mask, his lungs were failing, so we've put him on a ventilator for the time being, and we're continuing the ribavirin for his kidneys.'

More blank eyes and nodding.

'...Well. Um. All right, the nurses will be back to check on him through the night,' Piper finished awkwardly. She motioned to Sam, gave a thumbs up to his wife to say he was going to be okay, at least for the time being, and left.

Pelage was waiting for her outside.

'You act and you think quickly,' she told Piper, not looking up from the documents she was sifting through. 'But you will have to be _faster_ if you want to keep your patients _alive_.' Dr. Pelage leaned her papers on the counter of the nurses' station, her pen moving over the page quickly. 'You've got skill and talent, and the pedigree to go with it — try to use it more often, Chapman. For all our sakes.' She turned on her heel, but not before piercing Piper with a stare that made her seem infinitely larger than Piper remembered.

As Pelage turned the corner toward the lift, Piper slumped over the nurses' station.

'Don't worry about her,' Sophia comforted, smiling as she rubbed Piper's back. 'You did fine in there.'

'Fine?' Taystee asked. 'Chapman was like a machine in there, all fast and bionic and shi- uh, stuff. Pelage is just bein' hard on you 'cause she likes you and wants y'all to be perfect.'

'Likes me?' Piper echoed weakly as she lifted her head. It had been a fast and furious race against Sam's quickly failing lungs. 'I don't think so.'

'Oh, she's got a funny way of showing it,' Sophia added. 'Put it this way. If she ignores you, then you ain't got a snowflake's chance in hell. If she never says anything to you, ever, then she's already waiting for the day you drop out.'

'And if she gives me a backhanded compliment?'

'Honey, from Dr. Pelage, a backhanded compliment _is_ a real compliment.' Sophia glanced at the clock. 'Your shift ends in ten minutes, baby, cheer up.'

'What'd she mean by pedigree, though?' Taystee took a pack of sour gummi worms from her drawer and tore it open.

'Oh. My dad's a surgeon,' Piper said, waving a hand glibly. 'At NewYork Presbyterian. I guess she knows about him.'

'P, you never said you was in the family business!' Taystee laughed. 'You a real daddy's girl, huh?'

Piper sighed, smiling weakly and tilting her head from side to side as she tucked her hands into her coat pockets, walking backwards to the elevator. 'Yeah, something like that, I guess.'

* * *

Pulling her jacket from her locker, Piper slid her arms through the sleeves, shutting the metal cabinet closed and resting her forehead on the door. The metal felt especially cool on her skin, and she took a deep breath, her palms flat against the locker. She didn't mind being known as Dr. Bill Chapman's daughter. Really, she didn't.

Fucking Pelage had to dredge it up like it was some sort of money-back guarantee, was all.

Hiking her bag on her shoulders, Piper left the doctor's lounge, waving goodbye at a few other residents she passed. Poussey caught up with her at the elevator.

'Heard Dr. Pelage got into you.'

'Yeah, well.' Piper shrugged, her mouth gathering at one corner. 'Doesn't she always?'

'It's 'cause you're _good_, Chapman.' Poussey lightly slugged her in the arm. 'Don't you ever forget it.'

They walked together to the main entrance, past the closed cafeteria and the lone nurses at the administration, out towards the darkness, standing together at the pick-up bay.

'You driving home?' Piper asked, pulling her bag around to grab her keys.

'Yeah, Taystee says she's gonna drag me back to the apartment if I don't go home at least once this week.' She turned, waving as she went her way. 'See you later, Chapman. Remember, if you gonna smile like that again, then don't look like a crazy-ass bitch around the hospital. You gonna scare people!'

'...I'll remember that!' Piper called back, laughing, though still rummaging through her bag for her keys.

'And why would smiling make you look like a crazy-ass bitch?' came a voice that made Piper jump at least a foot.

'Oh my God!' Piper nearly stumbled backward. She looked up to see Alex emerge from the shadow of the building, leaning on her side on one of the columns. 'Can you — like — not do that?!' Exhaling a breath of relief and putting a hand over her heart, Piper shook her head. 'Scared the bejeebus out of me.'

'I'll be less stealthy next time, for your sake.' Alex grinned, shifting her glasses.

She looked different than she had earlier, Piper noticed. More casual. Less makeup, but she'd still put the effort in for some liner and lipstick. 'What the hell are you doing here? It's one in the morning.' Piper was surprised, for sure, but it didn't mean she wasn't pleased about it.

'I owe you a drink, don't I?' Alex said simply, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. She was in jeans — the kind of jeans that made staring inescapable, hugging the curves of her hips, encasing the legs beneath — and an unzipped hooded sweatshirt. Was that a Led Zeppelin t-shirt under there? 'And you said you'd have dinner with me.' Apparently, the hour wasn't an issue. '_Tonight_.'

Piper's laugh came out as a snort. 'You couldn't wait till there was a night I got off work at a reasonable hour?'

'I could, but I didn't really want to.'

'And how the hell did you know I would be out by now?'

'You mentioned it while bending over the pool table for my perusal earlier.' She raised her eyebrows, a slow smirk taking its place. 'So are you done, or are you standing me up?'

Piper considered her options:

Option 1 - go home and sleep.

Option 2 - go home with a gallingly attractive stranger named Alex who promised food and alcohol.

'You could be one of those people that lures girls away and sells them off to human trafficking. The fishers,' Piper said, pursing her lips playfully and lifting her own eyebrows. 'Stranger danger and all.'

'If I'm being really honest here, I'm way more interested in fucking you myself than selling you off to the slave trade.' Alex adjusted her glasses again, blinking. 'Just saying.

'...Oh.'

Option 2 it was.

* * *

_The response to this AU has been incredible; I'm so happy that so many of you guys enjoyed the first chapter! A lot of people pointed out I kept switching my East and West coast references and I admit I was writing that chapter at 2am on pure excitement, and was too impatient for my kindasortamaybe beta (thanks so much for your feedback Ry, it's always valued and appreciated!). I have a lot of plans for this story, and while I'm a little slowed down because of end of semester exams and major essays, I'll be on break for a good few months after it, so expect some (hopefully) good holiday reading. _

_Also, if anyone's wondering who Maury Kind is, it's the radio host who interviewed Larry in OITNB. And no, Poussey didn't skip pre-med, I just thought it would kind of go without saying that she did pre-med. _

_As always, let me know what you think, you never know how much what you guys say affects what comes out in the story. Suggestions, corrections, critiques - whatever you got. A few of you gave me some really good ideas for my future oneshots in the reviews for Soldier ;) _

_So, you know. Pie for your thoughts in a review?_

_spiffy_


	3. Driving In Cars With Hot Lesbians

What was it her mother used to say about getting into cars with strangers? Oh, right.

_Don't do it. _

And still, Piper blindly followed Alex through the hospital parking lot, her hands restlessly shifting on the straps of her bag. It could have totally been a kidnap attempt, and Piper would have walked right into it without a single excuse in the world to save face. Not that there would be any need to save face if she got herself killed. What kind of headstone would she have?

_"Piper Chapman, loving daughter and friend. Followed an insanely hot girl into the parking lot to her death."_

Her mother would _love_ that.

'You wanna think a little louder? I'm pretty sure Cambodia can hear you.'

Piper came to an abrupt stop, blinking away the hesitation as she saw Alex, leaning against the trunk of an inconspicuous black BMW. 'Um... I was — I was just — ' Piper bit her tongue, scuffing the heel of her boot against the concrete and looking to the side, clearing her throat. 'Never mind.'

'You,' Alex said, chuckling softly and unlocking the car with a push of a button, 'need to chill.' She turned and rounded the side, opening the driver door before leaning her arms on the roof, pure amusement curving her lips. 'I don't usually do... This.'

Slowly coming to the passenger's side, Piper shifted her bag on her shoulder. She didn't know what _this_ was supposed to mean, but Piper didn't try to clarify it. 'Oh?' Maybe Alex _didn't_ show up after midnight to pick girls up? Piper could've been fooled.

'I usually slip a roofie into drinks and take girls home, just like that. Don't even bother with asking them out,' Alex said as though Piper had spoken aloud. Alex's face lasted a second before she cracked, looking down as she barely held in a laugh. 'C'mon, kid, just get in the car. I'm starving, and you clearly need a drink.' She ducked down and slid into the car, and after a moment's hesitation, Piper followed.

'So,' Piper eventually asked as Alex pulled out of the parking lot, holding her bag tightly in her lap, 'where do you take girls for dates in the wee hours of the morning?'

'I don't,' Alex answered, one hand on the wheel, her other elbow leaning on the window. 'I'd say the norm is that if I take you out and I don't have you naked by now, then I wasn't planning on sleeping with you anyway.'

Cocky asshole. Cocky, stupidly attractive asshole. 'So, you're not planning on sleeping with me?' Was that _disappointment_ Piper heard in her own voice?

'You're not the norm.'

'So, what, you're planning on buying me dinner, getting me wasted, getting into my pants, and never calling me back, is that it?'

They came to a red light, and as the car slowed, Alex turned and gave Piper a look, one where her eyes were smiling, but her mouth was smirking.

It was maddening, and Piper couldn't figure out why.

'Well,' Alex said slowly, her mouth still curved in that infuriating way, her foot pressing on the gas as the light turned green, 'I didn't say that.'

* * *

When Alex pulled up to a restored building in the heart of Tribeca, Piper's oddly possessive grip on her bag hadn't loosened. It wasn't as if there was anything of particular value in there, and Alex hardly seemed the type for petty thievery. Her eyes, however, did peer up at the building facade curiously. Tribeca was an odd choice for a trafficking operation. Perhaps Alex was simply going to kill her. Piper could see the 7pm news bulletin already; "Young hospital resident murdered in luxury Tribeca loft". What she ended up saying was, 'This is where we're having dinner?'

'Yep.' Alex stepped out of the car and onto the street, twirling her keys around one long finger. When Piper didn't immediately follow, she stood at the building's front door, eyebrows raised. She smiled expectantly. 'Let's go, Laura Ingalls Wilder. Don't you know it's rude to keep a lady waiting?' Pressing the key code into the number pad by the doors, Alex held the door open, cocking her head toward the elevators.

Piper shoved aside any hesitation and climbed out of the car; where was she going to go at this point? She'd have to walk at least a block to catch a cab, and if Alex was really going to kill her like the paranoid WASP in her head kept saying, she'd probably catch up by then anyway. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Piper walked into the lobby first, taking a reassuring sigh as Alex came up beside her and walked with her to the elevator. Pressing the button, Alex didn't bother to hide her smirk; it was like a permanent fixture on her face, and as they stepped into the elevator, they shared a look — a heartbeat passed — and Piper's awkwardness fled as the tension broke with a laugh from both of them.

'You're not going to cook, are you?' Piper asked warily as Alex slid her keycard into the elevator slot and pressed her floor number.

'Are you fucking kidding me?'

* * *

'Wow, Saluggi's and beer on a Friday night,' Piper said, balancing a slice of pizza on her fingers. 'You really do know a way into a girl's pants.'

Alex's chuckle was a smoky, silken sound as she brought the glass bottle to her lips. 'We'll see.'

Sitting on the dark wooded floor of Alex's maisonette, atop the thick rug in her living room, in between the rough triangle of black leather lounges and the sleek entertainment system, Piper silently looked over the apartment, the furnishings, the stark contrast of exposed brick and whitewash walls. It was a beautiful space, filled with odds and ends, pieces of art and furniture that didn't match but fit anyway, the way one collected things simply because they liked the items rather than for any end design. And here they were, another oddity in a room full of equally mismatched things that came together in strange accord, washing pizza down with beer at three in the morning.

'This place was kind of a dump when I got my hands on it,' Alex admitted, lying on her side, not missing the way Piper's blue-green eyes flitted over the loft. 'I converted the other floors to rent out, and took the top floors for myself.' She followed Piper's gaze to a glass sculpture on an end table. It was single daffodil in a royal blue vase, and seemed inconspicuous as far as art went, but Alex shifted on her elbow, smiling a little. 'Dale Chihuly,' she said, her own eyes raking over Piper appreciatively as the blonde's eyebrows flew up.

'Seriously?' Piper's eyes widened, and she didn't bother containing her delight, straightening on the rug. 'His smallest pieces are like, ten grand a pop.'

Alex didn't respond, but she pointed her beer bottle upward, at the ceiling.

Piper looked up - a black, white and blue chandelier hung above them, made up of irregular blown glass shapes, and her mouth fell open. 'No way. No _way_.'

There was a the tiniest shrug of the shoulders as Alex drank her beer. 'Way.'

'His commissions are impossible to get your hands on!'

Alex's face scrunched at that. 'I wouldn't say _impossible_.'

Piper laughed, moving to stand up to get a better look, when Alex leaned over and put a hand on her knee.

'You can stare at that thing all you want later,' Alex told her sombrely, leaning over, before grinning. '_I_ asked you to dinner, not Dale Chihuly's chandelier.'

'_You_ also dropped his name, so if I'm enamoured with your chandelier, that's entirely your fault,' Piper returned smartly. 'Look at you, name-dropping just to get me into bed. I expected better, Vause, worldly woman such as yourself.'

That drew a deep, rumbling laugh from Alex, and Piper felt it like a shiver all the way down to her toes. 'Worldly, huh?' Alex looked at her over the rim of her glasses, that smirk on her lips again as she took the opportunity to stroke Piper's arm with the backs of her fingers. 'What makes you say that?'

'You mean, aside from the Tibetan rug we're sitting on, and the knick-knacks just _lying_ around this place?' Piper hadn't travelled the world like she'd always wanted to - but she'd been on enough vacations to know the difference between something from a crowded flea market, and an overpriced hipster replica. 'Plus, the Dale Chihuly stuff was a giveaway. You don't just _buy_ Dale Chihuly at Barney's.'

Piper wasn't sure whether Alex's grin was from amusement or something else, but then Alex was stroking her arm again, and suddenly she wasn't really sure of anything except that she wouldn't mind if Alex touched her just about anywhere.

'Please stop talking about Dale Chihuly. I will fucking _give_ you that piece on the table if you stop right now.' Alex chuckled, looking down at the hand Piper leaned on the rug, drawing her own fingers down and tracing over Piper's knuckles. 'So, what else do I need to know, Dr. Chapman?'

She tried to focus on her beer, then at the empty box of pizza in front of them, but Piper's eyes kept going back to Alex's face, down the column of her throat, to where her shirt's loose neckline revealed a black bra strap stark against a pale shoulder. Hmm. 'To know about what?'

'What else do I need to know about _you_?'

'_Need_ to know?' Piper repeated, squinting in scepticism, shaking her head to herself as she looked elsewhere. 'There isn't that much you _need_ to know.'

'Don't be so fucking coy, Piper,' Alex said, though her smile rid any notion of irritation her words suggested. 'I could make at least a dozen different assumptions about you based on the meagre few hours I've been with you today, but I think we both know that it's more fun if you tell me about yourself so I can prove I was right and then make fun of you for it.'

Piper couldn't help a grin, and she pushed at Alex's shoulder. 'Oh, just shut up.' Giving a resigned sigh, Piper pressed her lips into a thin smile as Alex continued to smile expectantly. 'My parents split up when I was twelve, and my dad moved out here to New York while my mom stayed in Connecticut and I got shipped to boarding school- ' She paused when Alex's brows lifted. 'What?'

'Boarding school?'

There was a moment's hesitation before Piper said, 'Miss Porter's.'

'Oh Jesus,' Alex laughed, 'You're _that _kind of New Englander.'

'Excuse me?'

'WASPy,' Alex clarified, stifling a smile. 'The kind whose parents can afford forty grand a year on education alone.'

'...Yeah, well, while every other resident I know is sitting on two hundred thousand dollars worth of student loans, I'm debt-free thanks to _those_ kinds of parents,' Piper said primly, finishing her beer. 'And what the hell would you know, you drive a Beemer and you're living in Tribeca in a kick-ass apartment with _Dale Chihuly_ commissions lying around like last week's laundry.'

'Point taken,' Alex conceded, 'and while I'd normally argue that I bought this place with money I earned myself, I'm pretty sure my chances of getting laid tonight drop to about zero if I do.'

'Too late, they've dropped.' Piper sat straight, withdrawing her hand from the way Alex was running her thumb over the back of it.

Alex sat up with her, putting her beer aside. 'Hey, come on, I didn't mean anything by it. You sounded pretty glum about your uh, _childhood_, yourself.'

It was then that Piper realised that in sitting up, Alex had managed to move herself closer. _Sneaky_ would have to be added to the kind of asshole that Alex was. '_I_ can be judgemental about my parents and my upbringing,' she said pointedly, feigning insult. '_You_ can't.'

'I wasn't judging,' Alex insisted softly, chuckling as she lifted a hand to tuck a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear. 'It was a really bad attempt to be funny. Sorry.'

'I'm half-drunk and really tired,' Piper added with faux indignation, 'so I should be laughing at everything at this point. You just keep disappointing, Alex.' She shook her head, sighing dramatically, when she found Alex's face a whole lot closer than she remembered.

Alex pulled her glasses off, folding them and tucking them into the neck of her shirt as she leaned on a hand, her nose barely grazing Piper's. 'You're a real ball-buster, aren't you?' she murmured against Piper's mouth.

'Good thing you don't have any,' Piper returned, and any smart remark she might've had loaded and waiting to fire went completely forgotten because Alex was kissing her, and Piper's brain refused to pick itself up from the pile of mush it had become.

She felt the warmth of Alex's palm sliding down her neck, fingers slipping into the hair at her nape, and when Piper registered the floor at her back, Alex had gone from 'disappointing' to downright overachieving in all of a few seconds; her hand was smoothing over Piper's bare skin, and Piper was already half underneath her.

There was barely time to breathe, because, Piper found, Alex was just _that_ good with her mouth. Alex's tongue swept between her lips, and then it was Piper trying to suck as much of Alex's mouth into her own, and she moaned when that same mouth left to trail down her throat. When Alex's hand drifted lower, tugging at the button and zipper of her jeans, Piper was too busy pulling at Alex's shirt to notice; there was no suggestion, no pretence. Alex made clear what she wanted, but then there was a moment's pause as Alex lifted her head, grinning down at Piper.

They were green, Piper realised. Alex's eyes were green. Pale, and flecked with curious golden shades that Piper could have spent all day counting.

But then those long fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her underwear, and Piper nearly choked on a gasp as they stroked, teased — and when they finally slid inside her, Piper's own fingers clawed at the rug, at Alex's shoulders, anywhere she could reach, as her head tilted back against the floor, hips lifting to move against Alex's hand.

The fingers moved fast, curling and withdrawing, then returning even deeper, and Piper couldn't recall ever being so close so fast. All she could see, all she could touch, was Alex, all she could breathe and taste was _Alex,_ and Piper had never figured herself as an addict of anything, but this, _this,_ she was sure, had to count as some kind of addiction, because with every little whimper and every single gasp that she made, Alex responded — slower, faster, Piper didn't care — and all she wanted was more.

This was an addiction, surely.

Alex's hand strained under the denim of Piper's jeans, and it was Piper's short-lived thought that maybe it might've been better to get rid of the pants altogether, when Alex quickened the pace, thumb rhythmically stroking along with her fingers inside as her mouth found a spot on Piper's neck and simultaneously agitated with her teeth and soothed with her tongue.

Piper barely lasted a minute then, a deep shudder ripping through her before she let out a soft cry and fractured, back arching against the rug, Alex's fingers drawing out every ounce of feeling from her body till it went slack.

There was a long minute as they panted together. 'I hope you're still not disappointed,' Alex said eventually, planting tiny kisses underneath Piper's jaw.

Piper couldn't see the smirk, but she could sure as hell hear it. 'Oh, no,' she breathed, her chest heaving, weakly lifting a hand to wave. 'Disappointment's too strong a word.' She managed to pat Alex's shoulder as the dark-haired head lifted. 'That was at least a solid B+.'

Something lit behind Alex's eyes, and despite her bones of jelly, Piper raised a brow defiantly.

'I wasn't exactly a straight A kinda student back in school,' Alex drawled, 'but you'd better keep a watch on that mouth before I shut it the only way I know how.'

'Okay, _this_ I have to see.' Piper laughed despite Alex's expression. Alex, however, all but hauled her up the stairs to the bedroom on the mezzanine.

'Kid, you have no idea.'

* * *

It wasn't the sun that woke her.

It wasn't a hangover, either.

Perhaps it had something to do with the slight soreness. Or the arm slung over her back, and the woman not quite spooning beside her.

Piper was lying on her stomach, her face half-buried in a pillow. She warily blinked, taking in her surroundings as she pushed herself up on her elbows. Taking note of the splay of black hair on the pillow next to hers, Piper's eyebrows lifted on their own as she recalled the night before.

Oh.

_Oh._

Clapping a palm to her forehead, Piper carefully inched towards the edge of the bed, the gentle aches in her body a reminder of last night, slipping out from beneath Alex's arm. What she'd been thinking, she wasn't totally sure of, but judging by the lack of the hangover, Piper guessed that the fumbling drunken encounter card was not on the table. Alex had been charming and funny, with excellent taste in just about everything, and clearly had the self-assurance to say what she thought. No matter how much Piper might have disagreed with an opinion, or had her own thoughts, she was always a sucker for the confident ones. To top it all off, Alex was a good lay.

A _great_ lay.

A fan-_fucking_-tastic lay.

But even _that_ fact didn't nullify the reality that it probably shouldn't happen again. Ever. Piper mentally groaned, swinging her legs off the side of the bed and bending over to search for her underwear. She was a resident, nearly in her third year, and she rarely had time to sleep, let alone sleep _with_ someone on a regular basis. Alex had taken her through several spectacular rounds of unnervingly good — unbelievably good — sex, and Piper would have applauded herself for not passing out from sheer exhaustion right in the middle of it, but that must have been a fluke, because she barely had the energy to fix herself dinner most nights, let alone fuck for hours on end.

A fuck buddy arrangement would have served well, actually, but Piper would have made a terrible fuck buddy. All her energy went into running around the hospital and scrubbing in on surgeries and absorbing information. And torturing first-year interns. Piper sighed, more loudly than she'd meant to, and stood from the bed, pulling on her underwear.

'Isn't it polite to make your escape _before_ I wake up?'

Piper nearly fell over, getting one foot caught in her panties as she pulled them on, and she quickly hopped around to face Alex, who, lying on her front, thousand-thread count sheets swathed over the curve of her rear, made Piper consider jumping back into bed. She blinked the thought away, but it came back insistently as her eyes fell on the salt shaker tattoo on the back of Alex's shoulder — she was pretty sure she'd licked that at some point last night —, and then she could hardly stop herself from drinking in the broad but slender shoulder blades, and the gorgeous slope of her back.

Jesus Christ, the woman should have come with a warning sign. A big one. In neon.

_Beware of ludicrously hot lesbian. Armed and dangerous with magic hands and mouth. And orgasm voice._

'I have to go,' Piper said flatly, scouring the floor for her bra. She didn't actually need to go anywhere, not for a while, but she was sure she needed to _go_, just somewhere not in Alex's vicinity.

'Do you have work?' Alex shifted to her side, propping her head up on one hand as she reached for her glasses on the bedside with the other. 'I'll drive you, and we can grab some brunch on the way.' The smile on her face was wicked, and sent a flare of heat straight between Piper's legs, and when she laughed, Piper was sure Alex knew it had. 'You must be hungry after last night.' Her eyes glinted from behind the glasses. ''Cause whaddaya know, Hot Doctor Chapman is a tomcat in the sack.'

Turning away to hide the fact that her face was growing hot, Piper pulled the straps of her bra over her shoulders. 'I'll take a cab.'

If she turned around, she might have seen Alex's eyebrows lift in genuine surprise. 'Something wrong?' Alex asked, sitting up against the pillows, the sheets slithering even lower past her waist as she plucked her phone from the bedside and began sifting through messages.

Piper stalked to the railing of the balcony overlooking the kitchen, grabbing her jeans from the ledge. She supposed they must've been thrown in last night's... Festivities. 'No,' she muttered, pulling one leg through, then the other. 'No, everything's fine... Where the hell is my shirt?' Piper turned her head worriedly, walking around before dropping to her hands and knees to look. Alex's chuckle followed, but Piper fought to ignore it.

'If you're not gonna be late,' Alex said on a sigh that sounded like sin, 'then get your ass back in here.'

As Piper found her shirt by the foot of the bed, she stood up. 'I can't stay for another round, Rocky.'

'I'll make it quick.' Alex's smirk was no less enticing in making Piper want to smack it right off her face.

With her mouth.

So Piper didn't respond, only sitting on the edge of the bed, in her jeans and her bra, hauling her shirt over her head. She almost yelped when arms hooked around her middle and yanked her back into the centre of the bed.

Alex was laughing, and she took hold of Piper's wrists as they swatted valiantly, pinning them on either side of her head. 'I'm not even remotely done with you, and you're already half-dressed.' She leaned down, smirking against Piper's cheekbone as she pressed a kiss there. 'For a Porter's girl, your manners are terrible.'

* * *

Alex had lied.

She was a liar.

An attractive, annoying liar with self-esteem falling out of her perfectly formed ass.

Piper had thought it better to not waste the energy in fighting her way out of Alex's bed; what was one more orgasm following a night where she'd stopped counting how many times she came? Contrary to her assurance, Alex had not made it quick. She'd gone slowly, teased and drawn it out, till Piper had writhed every which way and, to Piper's shame, begged. Even when Alex had relented and made her come, it was on the condition that Alex drove her to work. And that Piper handed over her phone number.

'I'm not gonna send you on your way like a fucking hooker, Piper,' she'd said.

And so Piper sat in the cafeteria's outdoor area, knees brought up to her chest in one of the metal chairs in the middle of the day. The on-call room might have been a good idea, but Piper didn't particularly like the idea of trying to relax when interns, residents and attendings were boinking in the bunks. She wasn't tired. She'd slept pretty well, actually, and for the first time in a while, her body wasn't heavy when she'd rolled out of Alex's bed, but Piper relished the time she had when she knew she wouldn't be paged. More importantly, what was she going to do about Alex? She was in no position for regular sex, let alone any kind of relationship, and yet there the universe dangled Alex Vause who was as much as a walking personification of hot sex as she was exasperating.

'Dr. Chapman?'

'I am not here,' Piper announced, her face buried in her elbow on the table, 'I am not here, I am not on call, you do not see me, you do not exist. Begone.'

'I was just wondering if you could look over my notes. I have my Intern Test in a few weeks, so I thought...'

When Piper lifted her head, standing by her table was Tricia Miller, one of her interns. Piper wasn't sure if she liked Tricia or not; she wasn't unpleasant by any means, but Piper generally wasn't fond of any of her interns as a rule. 'Miller, I'm not even supposed to be here. I should be at home, sleeping, avoiding you and your exam notes and everybody else until I am on working hours.'

'I know — I know, 'cause you told us to remember your schedule so that we'd know when you were around and stuff — but you're the best resident, and everyone says that you'll probably be the best surg—'

'Okay, okay,' Piper sighed, leaning back in her chair, combing her hair away from her face with her fingers. 'But don't go overboard on the sucking up. And don't tell any of the other interns I'm doing this for you because if anyone else asks me for help like this, I'm coming after you.'

Tricia looked like she'd won the lottery, sitting down in the other chair at the table.

'Lemme see your notes.' Piper held out a hand expectantly. 'And while I'm looking them over, go grab me some coffee — from the cart at the front of the hospital — and some frozen yogurt from inside.'

As Tricia continued to beam, handing Piper the pile of papers, she nodded. 'Cream or sugar?'

'Cream and one sugar.' Rubbing her eyes, Piper brought her feet up onto Tricia's chair, and she flipped through the pages of her notes. She remembered the first day she'd met her interns, including Tricia; Tricia took instruction well, and was always eager to learn, but she was also the black sheep of the Piper's group of interns.

Scanning through Tricia's notes, Piper regretted not asking for a pen. Tricia appeared to have a tendency to take verbatim notes, and as a result of writing as fast as the doctors were speaking, the writing was messy, and likely to cause confusion when Tricia reviewed them.

'Always working even when you're not, aren't you, Dr. Chapman?'

Piper followed the voice, smiling and taking her feet down from the chair when she saw the owner holding a tray of food. 'Oh, hey, Sister Ingalls.'

'Thank you,' Sister Ingalls said, sitting down and placing her tray on the table, nodding her head toward the papers. 'Those are Dr. Miller's exam notes, I presume?'

'Hm? Oh — yeah, she asked me to look over them, and I guess she caught me in a relatively less unsympathetic mood, so...'

'Yes, the nurses keep telling me she's studying when she's not working, sleeping when she's not studying, and hanging onto every word you doctors have to say,' Sister Ingalls chuckled, picking up a fork and starting on her salad. 'But even I've noticed that she's quite a fan of yours.'

Piper gave a resigned smile. 'Yeah, well, it's a miracle considering I make it a point to be a pain in the butt for all my interns. Teaches them how to be resilient and all.' She rested her chin in her hand. 'So, how about you, any miracles today?' Sister Ingalls wasn't hospital staff, exactly, but she spent her days at Hudson-Vaucluse to oversee the chapel, and to also visit the patients, particularly those undergoing major procedures, and the terminally ill. She was, in fact, a favourite of the children in the paediatrics department.

'Miracles occur every day, Piper, and you certainly don't need to believe in God to know that.' Sister Ingalls chuckled, patting Piper's hand. 'Look at us, for instance. I'm a frigid Catholic nun, you're a stubborn atheist, and you're still my favourite doctor in the hospital. Tell me that's not a miracle in itself.'

'Well, you got me on that one.' Laughing as she sat back, Piper straightened Tricia's notes into a pile.

'Although one of the OD patients in the ER did call me the Pope's bitch when she woke up,' Sister Ingalls noted casually, forking a cherry tomato. 'I like to think of myself more as the Pope's homie.'

* * *

_This one took a little longer to pump out, but I was really unhappy with a lot of parts, and even now I'm still not sure about bits here and there. A few of you mentioned that we barely got to see Alex in the previous chapters, while others noticed that I was introducing the other characters into the story, which is pretty much what I'm trying to do. Alex and Piper are a mainstay, of course, but my whole AU can't revolve around them, simply because I'd never planned it to be that way. There are other characters, other stories in this universe, and I hope you guys stick around to read them. I didn't want this to be a linear story, or a story that focuses on one thing._

_This AU is a whole re-creation and re-imagining that I've taken a lot of creative liberties with, and a lot of other plots and characters do exist within it to make it come to life as much as our beloved Piper and Alex do. I haven't even brought in all the regular characters yet, so I just want to remind you guys that this isn't a whambam quick fix of Vauseman. We're in for the long haul on this one, not to be dragged out, but for stories to be told._

_As always, I'm always happy to discuss OITNB and the fic through PM/reviews, and always appreciate the reviews you guys leave. It lets me know I'm not doing a total fuck-up job of things. ^^_

_spiffy_


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